Act 2 (Jack & Louisa) (8 page)

“She’s incredible,” I said, mesmerized.

Jack and Jenny nodded in unison.

“Fierce,” said Jenny.

“Stupid fierce,” said Jack.

“See if you can find
me
!” Mrs. Westcott stood behind the couch, watching over our heads. Jenny hopped off the couch and scooted on her knees toward the television screen, peering closely. She pointed to one of the dozen ladies-in-waiting, standing in a clump upstage.

“Is that you, Mom?” Jenny asked.

“That’s me, Lady-in-Waiting Number Seven.” Mrs. Westcott laughed. “I did the musical more for social reasons, not for stardom.”

“Why does
that
kid look familiar?” Jenny asked, squinting even more closely at the screen. Both
Jack and I joined Jenny on the floor to see who she was talking about, and we followed her pointing finger to the lanky boy playing Prince Dauntless. He came nowhere near the level of Belinda’s talent, but there was something charming about him—mostly because he seemed to be having a lot of fun onstage. And Jenny was right—there was something oddly familiar about him. I turned to see Mrs. Westcott giggling.

“He should look familiar,” she said, grinning, “though he’s filled out a bit since 1991.”

We inched even closer to the screen. Jack let out a small gasp.

“Oh my God,” he whispered, “it’s Coach Wilson.”

Jenny and I squealed.

“Oh my God, it
is
Coach Wilson!” Jenny screamed. “Look at how
skinny
he was!”

“Well, back then he was Mike Wilson,” Mrs. Westcott corrected, “and he was our star soccer player. But he got hurt during practice early in our senior year, so he had to sit out the season. In high school they do the musical in the fall, so our drama director recruited him for
Once Upon a Mattress
.”

We stared at Jenny’s mom, our mouths agape.

“I have to say,” she said, “he started out really
shy in rehearsals, but by the time we opened he’d turned into quite the ham.”

As if to illustrate Mrs. Westcott’s point, we heard a shriek from the television screen, only to catch Coach—I mean, Mike—Wilson executing a pretty decent pratfall, his gangly limbs flailing.

“I think Belinda brought out his inner clown,” Jenny’s mom continued, “or forced it out, really. She wanted to look good on that stage, you know? So she worked with him a lot to make sure her leading man was up to snuff.” Suddenly our run-in with Coach Wilson earlier that day took on a whole new meaning.

“You kids are in for quite a treat!” he’d said, then headed toward the double doors leading to the basement stairwell, carrying two cups of coffee. One of those cups must have been for Belinda, who did mention that she’d run into “an old friend over the holidays.” Watching the two of them in
Once Upon a Mattress
made it clear why he was so excited—his leading lady had returned home.

“Well, I’m psyched,” declared Jenny, hitting the pause button on the VCR. “Belinda seems awesome.”

I looked at Jack, who sat nodding enthusiastically in agreement.

I suddenly had an image of poor Mrs. Wagner laid up in a hospital bed, encased in a body cast. I felt bad that no one, not Coach Wilson, not Mrs. Westcott, and certainly not Jack, Jenny, or me, seemed too upset that she’d been replaced. But I felt good knowing that we would probably not be standing in a straight line anytime soon. Not with Belinda Grier running the
show.

-JACK-

“Have you memorized your lines yet?” Lou asked the next day, slamming her locker shut.

“What are you talking about?” I laughed. “Belinda hasn’t even announced what scenes we’re doing for the auditions yet!”

“Right,” Lou said, slinging her backpack over her shoulder. “But I’ve narrowed it down to the scenes before ‘Sue Me’ and ‘Marry the Man Today.’ They show off both dramatic and comedic range and only have two people in each scene, making them prime audition options,” she said, following me to homeroom. “I figured I’d look at them both; that way no matter what she chooses, I’ll have a head start.”

We walked down the hallway past the nurse’s office and the giant trophy case. As we turned the corner we were met with a vision of Belinda perched on a ladder, a roll of tape around her wrist, plastering audition posters to the wall.

“Well,” I whispered to Lou, “why don’t you just ask her yourself?”

Even while taping up posters, Belinda seemed to be striking a pose. She wore a pair of leopard-print leggings, a bright orange top, and a cropped leather jacket. Her shoes, I recognized immediately as LaDucas, a fancy brand of dance heel often worn by Broadway chorus girls. Her knee was bent, her foot pointing out like someone being kissed in a 1940s romantic comedy.

“Well, if it isn’t my little minions,” Belinda said, throwing us a wily smile.

“Hey, Belinda,” we sang in unison.

“I’m just finishing up with these audition announcements,” she said, slinking down the ladder. “What do you think?”

The wall was plastered floor to ceiling with rows of brightly colored paper. It looked like a downtown Manhattan construction site, the kind always lined with band posters.

“They look awesome,” I said enthusiastically.

“Speaking of which,” Lou cut in sneakily, “do you have any idea what the audition material for Nathan and Adelaide is going to be?”

“Oh, so you’ve decided to go for the comic duo rather than the pair of ingénues,” Belinda said, lifting her chin. “Wise choice. And, yes, I do have an idea, but you’ll have to wait until music class to find out.”

“You got it,” Lou cheeped, her disappointment well hidden. “Oh!” she blurted, causing all of us to jump a little. “You’re never gonna believe this! My other best friend, Jenny, she’s a ballerina actually, but that’s not the point. The point is, Jenny’s mom went to school with you and was actually in your senior year musical!”

Belinda gasped. “
Once Upon a Mattress
,” she said, a proud look taking over her face.

“Yeah,” Lou continued. “And Jenny’s mom still had a recording of the production and showed it to us, and omigosh”—Lou sighed—“you were so amazing.”

“You really were,” I added truthfully.

“You know, they pretty much chose that show for me,” Belinda said, gliding up to us like a kid
eyeing the last slice of birthday cake. “See, I played Bianca in
Kiss Me, Kate
my sophomore year, so everyone assumed I was just a dancer, but then I surprised them all by getting Audrey in
Little Shop of Horrors
the next year. See, I could do comedy, too,” she said, nodding eagerly. “So when they announced
Mattress
, it was pretty much understood that I’d be playing Winnifred.”

I could tell Belinda was an authority on many things, but her biggest area of expertise was, without a doubt, Belinda.

“Well, you were awesome.” I smiled.

“What’s your friend’s mom’s name?” Belinda asked, looking over at Lou.

“Um, it’s Amy. Amy Westcott.” Lou shrugged. “But that’s her married name. I’m not sure what her last name was in high school.”

“
Amy Westcott
,” Belinda whispered to herself. I waited for a flicker of recognition to sputter in her eyes, but none did.

“Really pretty. Long black hair. She was a Lady-in-Waiting,” Lou added. “Number seven, I think.”

“Number
seven
?! How many of them were there?!” Belinda said with a chuckle. “Hmm, no. Don’t think I can place her.”

“Well . . . ,” Lou said. “I’m working on getting her daughter Jenny to audition. Like I said, she’s a ballerina. In fact,
a lot
of girls from our class said they’re going to be at tryouts next Thursday.”

Belinda nodded, pleased.

“The real challenge is going to be finding boys,” Lou continued. “Of course Jack will be there, but I haven’t really heard of any other guys who are planning on auditioning.”

Belinda remained silent for a moment, staring Lou right in the eye. I wondered if she’d made a mistake by opening her mouth. Belinda didn’t seem like a person who enjoyed getting bad news.

“Worst-case scenario,” I butted in. “You could just dress up some of the eighth-grade girls in baggy suits,” I tried to joke. “Or change the title to
Dolls
.”

But my words were cut short as the force of something smacked me in the back, forcing me to crash into Lou. I looked down to find a soccer ball rolling past my feet. I traced its path back up the hallway to a cluster of boys.

“Whoops, sorry, dude,” a voice shouted, amid a chorus of snickers. I recognized it immediately as Tanner Falzone’s.

“My bad,” he said, giggling. “I was aiming for Sebastian.” Sebastian Maroney was the goalie of the soccer team, a kid who at twelve years of age had a deeper voice than my dad’s. The two swaggered down the hall, followed by a pack of boys wearing nylon warm-ups and hiding their laughter behind their hands. Lou reached down and scooped up the ball.

“Well, if that’s how you aim,” she said, squeezing the ball, her knuckles beginning to turn white as she scowled at Tanner, “it’s no wonder you guys got creamed at the championship game.”

“OHHHHHHHH!” the boys wailed, pointing frenzied fingers at Tanner. This was apparently even funnier than pelting the theater geeks with a soccer ball.

“Yeah . . . well,” Tanner said, suddenly red in the face. “Well, maybe
you
should practice some more high notes!”

“OHHHHHHHH!” the boys echoed robotically, pointing at Lou, although with less gusto. Their faces looked more confused than anything.

“Hey, good one, guys,” I said, grabbing the ball out of Lou’s hands, trying to defuse the situation. “Here ya go.”

I bounced it off my knee and straight into Sebastian’s waiting hands. This, for some reason, made the team giggle even more. Last semester, these boys were my main source of anxiety. Now, I had nothing to hide, but I still went to great lengths to cover up the fact that they pretty much terrified me.

“Come on, guys,” Tanner said, cocking his head to his teammates.

Like a well-trained army, they filed into a line and brushed past us. Just as they rounded the corner Belinda leaned in and whispered sharply, “What about those boys?”

Lou and I looked to each other, confused.

“Those boys could be my gangsters,” Belinda said urgently.

“Your what?!” I spit out, sounding slightly more shocked than intended.

“My gangsters in the show!” she exclaimed. “Harry the Horse, Angie the Ox, Big Jule. Look at them! They’re perfect.”

I jerked my head over toward Lou, who just stood there, blinking.

“Those guys,” I said, pointing down the hallway, “do
not
do musicals. Trust me.”

“Why not?” Belinda said, suddenly taken aback. “It’s thirty-two degrees outside. Soccer season doesn’t start for a few months.”

“Yeah, but—” Lou tried to interject.

“They play soccer, so I already know they can kick,” Belinda went on. “A couple of bar stretches and they’ll be in tip-top shape to learn the Crapshooters’ Ballet.”

“Ballet?!” I cried, shaking my head. “The day the soccer team does ballet is the day that Lake Superior freezes over.”

“Lake Superior freezes over as a polar vortex sweeps through the Midwest,” the radio weatherman announced as I scarfed down my bowl of granola. “Reaching a full one hundred percent freeze rate for the first time since 1979, residents of Michigan, Ohio, and Indiana are advised to avoid prolonged exposure to the outdoors until the thermometer climbs back up into the double digits.”

“Are you ready for the dance call today?” my mom asked, looking up from the lunch bag she’d been packing me.

“I guess so,” I said, swallowing. “I might be the only guy who shows up, so even if I fall on my face, I don’t think it will hurt my chances.”

“Well, try not to do that,” my dad said, entering the kitchen. “Make sure you warm up first. It’s cold days like these that you’re most likely to injure yourself.”

“I know, Dad,” I said with a sigh, spooning up the last bit of almond milk from my bowl. “I just hope I’m not alone up there.”

“Thank you for showing up today,” Belinda said, pacing across the stage looking out into the audience of nervous auditioners. The final ring of the school bell had cued nearly thirty students to pour into the auditorium, an impressive number by Shaker Heights standards, Lou was quick to point out. The only boys I saw were Garett Kirsch (a short boy from my homeroom), Travis Nordin (a skinny eighth-grader), and one boy I didn’t recognize from the sixth grade. Normally I’d be relieved, knowing my chances of getting Nathan Detroit were much better, but with only four guys to fill an entire cast, was this even a show I wanted to be a part of?

“We’ll be breaking up the audition over the course of two days. Tomorrow will be the acting and singing portion. Today will be the dance call,” Belinda said, holding up a clipboard. “I’m going to give you numbers to pin to the front of your shirt or leotard. Make sure they are visible.”

“Old-school,” I whispered to Lou.

“We’ll begin with the girls.” As she spoke she began stretching various parts of her body. Her green leg warmers bobbed with each
plié
. “Hopefully more boys will show up, but in the meantime, I’ll be teaching eight counts of eight to ‘Take Back Your Mink.’ I realize that not all of you are at the same level, but try your hardest and remember,” she said, rolling her ankle in a circle, “there’s always next year. Now, when I call your name, please come to the stage to get your number.
Danielle Abbott
,
Nina Avalon . . .”

The dance combination whizzed by. The steps were unusually difficult, even for the girls I’d seen cheerleading on the pep squad.